Symphonian Folk Tales
by Baby Kat Snophlake
Summary: A collection of Symphonian Folk and Tall Tales that have been passed down through generations of the different races.
1. Chapter 1

**EDIT-A/N:** For those who have already reviewed, thank you, I truly appreciate your feedback. But if you are new to this story, please do not review unless you have **constructive criticism** to give me. I don't want to be told how good I am or how much I sucked if you don't have a reason for saying so. I'd rather you say nothing at all if you can't tell me why you liked or hated something. If I am out of character, if my writing sucks, if my plot sucks, if my description sucks, if my dialogue sucks, if my style sucks, if my vocabulary sucks, if I'm not interesting you, if I put in a deal-breaker, if I irritated a pet peeve, if I am missing something, if I don't meet expectation, if you think I have potential but have too much to say, if you wish I had done something--anything-- differently, if you just plain hate what I've done with a character, plot, action, description, suspense, if I failed at an attempt at using a writing tool, if I have spelling errors, if I repeat words, if I use the wrong word, if the first sentence didn't grab your attention and you want to hit the back button, if I have grammar errors, or any kind of errors at all for that matter, if something is wrong or doesn't feel right and you just can't put your finger on it, if you hate my title or summary, even if all you can say is, "you want to know why, but I'm not sure so I can't tell you. It just doesn't work" **with a copy of the quote that doesn't work for you**, please do me the honor of telling me so, even if it's in the form of an email, PM, or review, I don't care how you do it, just tell me. Yes, I am begging for concrit. But please don't leave feedback that simply says "that was good. Nice job." I want to know the **why**. Thank you.

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**Yuan's Tale **(As told by Kratos)**  
**

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

This is the tale of a young boy versus the wilderness. Dared to face a night out on his own without the comfort of friends or family, he found himself in the middle of nowhere with nothing but flint, a huge slab of bacon that was bigger than he was, and a gourd full of water. His mission: to climb to the peak of the Fooji Mountains and plant a homemade flag at the very top.

The slope nowadays have been tamed, but back then the trail used to be as treacherous as walking into a bear's den come spring. The plants were not only alive, but to them, the bacon smelled just as good as the boy who carried it.

Then you had the beasts that were ruthless enough that if they stepped on their own eggs and crushed them, the eggs became a free-for-all feast. This happened in the dead of winter when the mountains became so cold, a boy's breath would scarcely escape his lips before it fell frozen to his feet. Ignoring the plants, the beasts, and the cold, the trail itself was so steep that boy's trip would take three times as long because he was carrying so much bacon.

If he had foreseen what was about to happen, he would've brought a blanket, a lit candle instead of flint and the gourd of water. But being the naïve eleven-year-old that he was, he stumbled foolishly into trouble wearing only a knee-length tunic. He fended off the beasts with his bad singing, and the plants with the beasts that stalked him. His singing wouldn't deter the beasts for too much longer, however, for they were beginning to starve.

The bacon lured them until now they were following within feet behind him. It hadn't taken him a minute to notice that the pairs of eyes that trailed him were doubling in numbers. He knew he had no weapons, so he tore pieces of bacon off the slab and dropped them behind him. One by one the beasts nabbed up the pieces. The slab was getting smaller while the beasts were increasing in numbers but that was the least of his worries.

The higher he climbed, the colder the air became. It seemed he had forgotten that the temperature was coldest at the peak. As he climbed higher still, it became more and more difficult to move, even for the beasts that followed. The plants refused to live this high up. The beats began to give up on being thrown their fair share of bacon. He was now high enough that the snow was several feet deep, six-inch icicles hung from rock ledges, and before long, he found himself near the peak all alone.

He stopped to rest so he could light a torch to keep warm. He didn't notice his body turning blue, including his hair. He dug through the snow for a stick that he could light and a stone he could scrape against the flint. The sparks flew but the moment they were born, they were frozen in the air. Blowing onto the sparks did no good because his breath had cooled by the time it reached the sparks. They were unable to thaw.

Frustrated, he picked up the frozen pieces of fire and threw them from the mountain. He realized he was hungry, so he picked off a few pieces of the bacon. He reached for his gourd of water to wash it down, but soon found the water had been frozen solid. Angry, he threw the gourd from the mountains as well. It didn't seem worth climbing to the peak to plant the stupid flag anymore, so he climbed back down the mountain. The trail slowly warmed up the further down he went until he met up with the beasts. He hardly felt like dealing with them so he threw the entire slab of bacon for them to fight over.

Now because coming down the mountain was always easier and faster than going up, he was able to make it home very quickly. What he came home to filled him with horror. It seemed that a neighbor's house had been burned sometime during his journey. Thankfully, the villagers had managed to put it out. What remained was the charred frame and the blackened furnishings. He asked his family what had happened and they declared it was something amazing!

Their neighbor had announced her disbelief of the Summon Spirits to the heavens when she saw frozen sparks of fire flying through the air. By the time the sparks struck her roof, they had defrosted, setting the cabin ablaze. She recanted her statements, apologizing to the heavens for her disbelief, and a gourd fell from the heavens thereafter. The gourd cracked when it hit her roof and water flooded the cabin drowning the fire.

The boy looked to his mother and cried, "There surely must be Summon Spirits for I tried to use those sparks to light a torch and they froze like the gourd of water! My Origin control Celsius who freezes water, life, and fire! May He control Efreet's fire which can swallow houses whole!"

The boy's mother looked down to her son with a befuddled look and could only reply with, "my dear child! Your hair has been dyed to match the color of the sky! You'll never have your beautiful silver hair again! It's been frostbitten!"

And now, my dear friends, you all know how Yuan's hair came to be blue. It has since thawed and regrew, but his roots have forever been frozen blue. Rumors remain that he uses blue dye for preference of blue hair over silver, but I suppose we'll never know.

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A/N:

About the Tall Tale: It used to be commonly believed that telling lies about someone was the worst thing you could do to them. Kratos had told this tale about Yuan after he was upset with him, and wanted to get back at him in the worst way he could think of, despite the old belief had since been abolished as worse punishments and actions emerged. The tale was so popular that parents began telling their children about Yuan's trip as a bedtime story in the hopes that their children would A: Never forget about the Summon Spirits, and never falter in their beliefs of the Summon Spirits, and B: Not wander off on their own unprepared, least of all on the basis of a dare. To this day, Yuan has not heard this story as he was no present for its original telling. Please don't tell him or you'll suffer Kratos's wrath.

Notes from the Authoress: This was originally a part of Flight of the Jellyfish but changes have dismissed this tall tale from the story. I fear that I may not be able to squeeze it back in until my third draft. That saddens me because this is my favorite Tales of Symphonia Folk Tale. Until my third draft, I put it here for everyone to see and enjoy. More folk tales to come, so stay tuned!

--Kat


	2. Chapter 2

**Origin of the Eggbear**

**by Baby Kat Snophlake**

There once was a great chef of a small village near where Meltokio stands today. This great chef had a shed full of his greatest secrets to the most delicious food in the world. People lined up at his restaurant, coming from near and far just to taste his new latest dish. He had made anything from potato salad to pork cutlets and it was always the best anyone had ever tasted.

One night, Brown Bear sniffed the air and smelled the delicious supper that the chef had made, and he licked his chops. The chef had always made plenty for everyone to get their fill, and indeed everyone had except for Brown Bear who was not welcome in the village anyway, but that mattered little as there was none left anyway. So the chef packed up his ingredients, washed his dishes, and went to bed.

Brown Bear found the pans used to cook the meal but they were all empty, dripping dry from being washed, and there was not a morsel to be found. He could still smell a mysterious scent, and followed his nose to the shed where the chef kept all of his ingredients. Now Brown Bear's claws were very strong, so a quick swipe at the lock was all that he needed to break open the door. He opened the door and wandered inside.

The shelves were stocked with many spices, dried vegetables and fruits, salted meats, and an ice chest for food that needed to remain cold. All the ingredients were the freshest that Brown Bear had ever smelled, but still that mysterious smell lingered. The bear followed his nose to one particular spice. The scent was so strong it wafted through the woven basket where it was stored, but he had to stand full length to reach it. Thank heavens that bears were blessed with long arms! Brown Bear pulled the top off the basket and inhaled deeply, sticking his nose as close to the basket as he could manage.

This was indeed the right spot!

He pulled down the basket with one grubby paw, but the basket tipped over, showering him in the strange spice. He stuck out a tongue, catching as many of the floating pieces as he could. This spice was delicious! He savored every lick, ignoring how the spice was landing on and all around him.

Spices were very good to eat but they had no substance, so he was still hungry. He sniffed around for other food as well, perhaps something more solid. He found the salted meats and sat on an ice cooler. With each steak he picked up with his paws, the spice would drift from him to the food he was eating, and the steak would be flavored with the same spice, making it even more delicious. This had to be the secret to the chef's cooking!

Satisfied that he had eaten his fill, the bear wandered out of the shed and strode away from the village with a full tummy. As he walked, he could hear faint whispers of all kinds. Some were shrieks of surprise or fear, others were snickers of laughter. He had no idea why so he asked the nearest animal, Mother Boar with her two babies, all of whom were shivering where they stood.

"Fear not, Friend Boar for I have eaten my fill. But now as I walk, I'm hearing more laughing and cries and I was wondering if you could tell me why?"

The Mother Boar relaxed then seemed surprised. "Friend Brown Bear? Is that you?"

"Yes, don't you recognize me?"

"I would," Mother Boar said, "except that you're in disguise! Why, dear friend, are you purple from head to foot?"

Brown Bear looked down at himself and sure enough, the spice had left its purple color sprinkled on his fur. He was no longer recognizable! What kind of spice was that chef using?!

"I'm sorry, Friend Boar! I had eaten a most wonderful feast and I had not realized that I was being painted as I ate! What should I do to remove the purple coloring?"

Mother Boar thought for a moment then stamped her foot. "I have an idea! Eggs are really good for your hair. They will make you silky and are good for helping to get sap out of your fur. If anything would get that spice paint out of your fur, it would be eggs!"

Brown Bear nodded, for surely Mother Boar knew what she was talking about! "And I remember seeing eggs in that chef's stores. I'll just go back and borrow a few."

Mother Boar nodded and Brown Bear turned back the way he had come. He reopened the door to the shed and found the stack of egg cartons full of pearly white eggs. He picked up a few and cracked them over his head, allowing the yolk and whites to soak thoroughly into his fur. He rubbed his fur all over, cracking more eggs as necessary to remove the dye, but no matter how much he scrubbed, the purple spice remained tainted to his coat.

He worked through the night, dragging the eggs to the well so he could mix the water with the eggs to see if that worked. He tried mixing mayonnaise into that mix, and peanuts mashed into a paste, butter fresh from the churn, but nothing worked. He washed out everything and sat among the eggshells crestfallen and purple.

By now it was almost dawn and the chef woke up to begin his morning preparations of breakfast for the villagers and village guests. He was always the first to wake, so when he got up to walk to his shed, he was the first to notice that it had been ransacked.

"Oh dear! What could have happened to my stores last night?" He followed the trail of eggshells and spoiled ingredients to Brown Bear sitting depressed. He noticed the purple fur and the egg yolks dripping from the ends of the hair and he shook where he stood. This was no normal bear! "I don't mean to interrupt," the chef said. Brown Bear turned his head most surprised to see the chef standing not far away from him. "But it seems that you have taken food from my stores. What am I to cook with now?"

Bear drooped his head and faced the chef. "I do apologize," Bear replied, "for my intrusion. I was very hungry but now I have paid the price for my theft. Your purple spice has tainted my fur and now I am no longer recognizable as the Brown Bear that I am. Please allow me to replace your stores, and I will leave you be."

The chef, realizing that Brown Bear had been covered with Purple Satay, the chef's secret ingredient, knew he couldn't allow Brown Bear to wander freely for fear that his secret would become known widespread.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to wander. If people found out you are actually a bear covered with my secret ingredient, the purple spice, my business would be ruined. I need you to be locked up where they won't find you."

Brown Bear didn't like that idea at all. He rather liked being able to run free. "Maybe we could make a deal. I will pretend to be something else. I will be ferocious so that no one will want to approach me. No one will find out our secret. I will be called something else so that I cannot be mistaken for a Brown Bear. I shall replace your stores as payment for my crime. As payment for my freedom, I will help keep your secret!"

The chef pondered that for a moment. Surely, if Brown Bear managed to find another name, maybe his secret would be safe after all. "Okay, as long as no one finds out about my secret ingredient from you, you may roam free. In the meantime, you can restock my stores by night so that no one will see you. I will call you Eggbear as you seem to like eggs so much you are covered in them."

Brown Bear nodded. "Then so I shall be called Eggbear. I will be ferocious and I will replace what I have stolen."

And so the Eggbear has been around Meltokio ever since, restoring the stores of the Wonder Chef, yet the Eggbears are the most ferocious monsters, allowing no one to get near them, and it was by no fault of the Eggbear when the rest of the world learned of the Wonder Chef's secret ingredient. After word got out, Eggbear was released of his duties and allowed freedom to wander. This is why today's Eggbears are so ferocious and mean, yet Wonder Chefs can walk freely among them.

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A/N:

About the Folk Tale: The Wonder Chefs of old would be aghast to find their secret is widely known, but Purple Satay had long ago been discovered as a tasty ingredient to many recipes. There have always been those skeptics though who feel that the Eggbear had come first and the Brown Bear is actually a decedent. This story, passed down by the Wonder Chefs themselves, appear to ring true to the truth, but I suppose we'll never know.

Notes from the Authoress: In coinciding with Jellyfish's folk tales, I decided to create a collection that may never see my other stories. Hence this was born from flipping through the monster list and realizing that so many monsters look similar but are differently colored with varying meanness. Then I wondered about Eggbears and now we all know where they came from and why they are so named.

--Kat


	3. Chapter 3

**Storm Claw **(As seen in Flight of the Jellyfish)

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

Storm Claw is one of the most famous, and with good reason. Long ago, long long before elves, humans, and half-elves existed, Origin was already old and the other spirits were just being born. Celsius was one of the first because the animals of the cold are among the oldest animals. But Celsius blew her snow too much, until her ice hung like sickles from the limb of every tree and from the hairs, feathers, and tails of every animal of the world. The animals were barely able to move, slowly they were freezing into statues because they were very much unlike the animals native to the cold. It was decided that someone should see Origin who originally rested his home atop the Latheon Gorge where he could see everything. Why he wasn't doing anything about the Spirit of Ice, the animals didn't know, but they elected one winged beast with the speed of the fastest wind to fly to the top of Latheon Gorge and appeal to Origin and hopefully end the cold.

That winged beast's name was Storm Claw. He was one of many small black birds responsible for the dark clouds, jagged lightening, strong winds, and heavy rains. Celsius froze their storms, so Storm Claw was more than willing to accept and complete this task. He was small, yes, but confident. He abandoned his storm tower and flew from the Isle of Lightening, going without trouble until he saw land again. But Celsius knew the animals' plans and had seen where he was headed and sent some nasty snowstorms to head him off.

Storm Claw dodged shards of ice and solid waves of snow, but they were falling so thick, so heavy, that he couldn't avoid them all. He was near the base of the Latheon Gorge when an ice shard sliced through his wing, and shattered his bone. He fell to the ground in a heap of black feathers, blood seeping from his broken wing, but he was undeterred. His animal friends were counting on him! He got up using his good wing and hopped along the ground. The cliff face was daunting, but he knew he could scale it somehow.

He noticed that some of the ledges on the cliff had flowers that were still blowing wind. Celsius didn't completely freeze them! If he used them, he could fly right up to the top! Storm Claw hopped to the nearest flower, coming to rest in front of it. He waited for the flower to blow him across, but when it did, it was so cold, his feathers froze and he was too heavy to float across, even with his good wing flapping. Celsius did not want him to see Origin! Storm Claw was disappointed but determined. After all, if he had to go home now, his friends would freeze to death; how guilty would he feel then? He certainly couldn't say he tried all he could!

Storm Claw looked around. There had to be some way to cross. Then he saw it. A ring was nearby, large enough for an elfin finger, but his own talons were too thin for something like that. He slipped the ring over his toes to fit it around his leg and activated it. A bubble appeared around him, disappearing moments later, and he was given an idea.

He hopped back to the flower and waited for it to exhale before he activated the ring for a second time. This time, though Celsius tried her hardest, the ice couldn't pierce or stick to the bubble. Storm Claw floated freely across the gap to the next ledge. The bubble burst, leaving him safely to a rest on the ground. But as he looked, the next flower had been frozen!

He blew on the flower, but his breath dropped in midair. He needed to warm the flower up before it would breathe wind! He flapped his wings. It seemed hopeless. But he couldn't give up! He was sent as the animals' only hope. He had to reach Origin!

Storm Claw cuddled over the flower, warming it with his own meager body heat until his heat burned hot enough, the ice melted from the flower. Finally, it rose from the ground, took a deep breath and exhaled a strong wind upward. It was with this pattern that Storm Claw managed to climb higher and higher. Celsius continued trying to freeze the flowers, trying to send down shards of sharp icicles, but every time she tried to stop him, Storm Claw remembered those back home that would freeze without him. He had to persevere, for their sakes!

Celsius blew a cold wind, blowing him off course. His bubble burst and he fell. He flapped his good wing valiantly, trying to stay afloat. He landed almost near the bottom of the gorge. How frustrating! He twittered a curse to Celsius, but he wasn't going to let it deter him! He would fight her until his last breath!

He struggled, laying over frozen flowers until they came to life, using the ring to form bubbles to soar, until finally, at long last, Storm Claw reached the highest level of the gorge. There, in a large hut, was Origin. Storm Claw tapped his foot against the door, but no one came to answer. He sang a song of hope and a desperate plea for help, singing with all his little heart and lungs would offer until Origin heard him and opened the door. Origin scooped up the brave little bird and set him on the table. As soon as he noticed the injured wing, the wing was cured.

'Thank you!' The little bird cried. 'But we are in danger! We fear Celsius is freezing us all! Please get rid of her!'

'Frost spirits and animals rely on her cold shiver to survive,' Origin explained. 'I can't get rid of the cold completely.'

'But Celsius is freezing us into statues! There must be something we can do! Please help us!' Storm Claw begged and pleaded until Origin held up one if his many hands.

'Calm down. I have no intention of letting you freeze. I created spirits of cold; so I will also create spirits to warm you when Celsius's snow covers the world.' And as Origin spoke, he created a warming glow by poking a stick into the sun and bringing it down to the world. He held the cool end to Storm Claw who told took it into his beak. 'Find a place near Celsius's island where you can deposit this flame. This fire will birth the new Spirit of Fire that will warm the world after Celsius blankets it in snow. But you must be swift, for if the fire touches you, you will burn.'

Storm Claw nodded and took flight with the stick. He flew out Origin's open door and up into the high winds. He could feel Celsius's attempts to freeze him, but the fire on the stick prevented him from getting too cold. His only problem was he had no idea where to plant the fire to birth the new spirit. He had a limited time to think about it! He flew to the north. Maybe there was somewhere he could plant the fire… But the forests were to the north. If he planted the fire there, he would burn the trees down! That was no good!

To the south of Celsius's island was a large valley and lots of mountains, but the mountain animals had thick fur! Putting the fire there would make them too hot! In the meantime, the fire was creeping down the stick. Storm Claw himself was getting too hot, he needed to find a place to set the fire… he couldn't give up now!

To the east was frozen sand. The animals there loved to hide in the warm of the sand but Celsius had cooled the sand so much. If Storm Claw set the fire there, they would be able to come out again. That and they would love the heat from the fire! He swooped down to drop the stick but his feathers caught fire as he opened his beak. He flew with all his might back for the waters, but the fire ate feather after feather. He was soon completely engulfed in the flames. His plumage was ruined!

He despaired, flying as a giant ball of fire until Origin reached out a hand and cupped the small bird, dousing the flames. Origin was watching now! He held up Storm Claw, showing him the world.

'Efreet will prevent the world from freezing. You've done well.'

'But my feathers are burned! How can I keep up with my storms now? My eyes are burned from the light. I can't see in the dark anymore.'

'Your brothers can care for your storms. The hope of the world's animals rest with you. It's time that you are seen as the hero that you've proven to be.' Origin held the little bird to the skies and he grew. His plumage was beautiful as the all the colors of rainbow. Both wings were stretched to the fullest, farther than he had ever spread his wings before. 'I rename you Aska, Spirit of the Sun. Every morning you will awaken the sun and rise over the world. When you do, you will bring the reminder of hope that every animal needs to survive. They will remember the deeds you have done for them.'

Aska raised his beautiful yellow head and flew from Origin's hands. With pride he sang the song of morning, which is the very same that all birds of the world sing in their own way. And truly, no animal has ever forgotten what Aska had done for them. He still brings hope every morning with the rising sun.

A/N:

About the folk tale: Elves and a few half-elves have passed this story from generation to generation for years in the hopes that those young and the future elves would always remember the sacrifices of Aska and his original Storm Claw heritage. Not only does it remind people that animals are integral to the world as well, but that elves should take pride in their own strength that they should never give up on themselves. But they also warn about too much pride and that, my friends, is another story.

Notes from the Authoress: Sorry it's not Kratos's, but he'll be next. I haven't written it yet and it's been a while since I last updated so I figured I'll post what I have and work on Kratos's Tall Tale next. Until next time!

--Kat


	4. Chapter 4

**Burning Triet**

**By Baby Kat Snophlake**

Long, long ago when there was no desert and the frost island of Flanoir was still young, there lived a young man named Kratos who traveled the world. When he came upon a village he requested lodging in exchange for his services. When asked what skills he had, Kratos would reply, "why, I can do just about anything that you need of me!" For one village, he blew his breath across a field of corn stalks, blowing all the ears into the nets he had set up on the other side. He saved the villagers so many hours of work that they had a feast in his honor that night.

The next morning he had set off on his travels. One day, he came to a small village called Triet in the middle of a forest and asked the village elder for lodging. When asked what he could do for payment, Kratos said that he could do anything that they needed.

"Well," said the village elder. "It would be nice to have a lake closer to us where we don't have to fish water from this dying stream anymore. Would you be able to help us with that?"

Of course Kratos nodded, puffed out his chest, and said, "of course I can help you with that! I'll dig a huge hole, fetch you some water, and you'll never have to worry about it again!" So Kratos found a clearing very close to the village and stood in the middle of it. He stamped his foot and the ground shook, sinking low into a hole big enough for a wide plentiful lake. Kratos climbed out of it and set south for the ocean beyond the mountains.

He picked up water from the oceans, carrying it upon his shoulders as he walked back through the trees, and he dropped the water right plop into the hole he had made. Then he left to tell the villagers about his handiwork and was rewarded handsomely with a soft warm bed and another fine feast. Kratos spent the night and traveled the next morning.

As he walked, he came upon an old man on the path. The old man smiled a toothless grin and said, "my, you are quite strong to carry so much water from the ocean."

"Yes," Kratos said, bowing. "As a matter of fact, I can do anything. Is there anything that I can do for you?"

"You are quite helpful, young man." The old man said. "But I'm afraid there's nothing anyone can do for me."

"Are you sure?" Kratos asked. "I can do anything, if you need help, surely there must be something I can do for you?"

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try," the old man agreed. "You see, I recently acquired a field with so many weeds and overgrowth that I couldn't hope to get rid of them all myself. I hired some young boys to pull the weeds for me, but they all returned to me saying that weeds wouldn't pull and I have no way of removing them. I've tried a scythe but they grow back way too quickly. If you'd be able to help me, I'll greatly appreciate it."

Kratos nodded. "I shall try. Where is this field?"

The old man took Kratos off the path to a large field covered in so many thick weeds it looked more like the weeds were the solid ground. Kratos stood at the edge of the weeds and grabbed one, tugging with all his might… but for the first time in his life, his strength failed him. He could not pull the weeds from the ground. He tried pulling a different weed with the same result. Already, the old man was shaking his head and sauntering away.

But then, Kratos had an idea. He picked up a stick and pointed it at the sun. As soon as the stick caught fire, Kratos ran the stick along the weeds, poking them until they were all engulfed in flames. When the fire threatened to breach the field's borders, Kratos filled his lungs with air and blew the fire back. It was with this tactic that Kratos burned all the weeds within the field, but the fire was enjoying its feeding.

"Young man," the fire spoke to Kratos, "I was born from the sun and I did as you bade me. Grant me life so that I may live longer."

"A long life is not for a flame to live," Kratos replied. "You have done your job, now it is time to sleep."

But the fire would have none of it. It fought against Kratos's breath to reach its thin fingers out beyond its border until a spark landed upon a blade of grass. The old man stamped his foot upon the spark killing it. Seeing this, the fire recoiled, allowing Kratos to keep it contained while it pondered a new plan.

Then the fire had an idea and instead of standing against Kratos's breath, the fire decided to work alongside the wind and several sparks flew beyond the field's border. With the fire out of the control, Kratos abandoned trying to use his breath and instead ran for the lake he had created for the small village. He spoke with the village elder.

"Please, allow me to borrow the water that I have brought you. There is a wild fire and I will bring you more water from the ocean after that fire is vanquished."

At once, the elder agreed and Kratos picked up every drop from the lake and carried it to the wild fire. He threw down the water in the center of the blazing field, drowning most of the base, but it wasn't enough. The fire was burning faster and hotter, spreading its fingers out to every tree and bush that came within its grasp. The old man hurried to the village as well and pleaded with the villagers to flee.

Kratos, meanwhile, ran to the ocean for more water, and carried an even heavier load on his back. He ran back and forth several times, dropping water on the fire, but the fire was way too big for him now. He couldn't carry enough water to drown it.

The fire cackled, "Mere human. I heard you boast about being able to do anything and yet you can't snuff my life! I will happily feed on this valley until there's nothing left!"

At that Kratos stared at the fire and hollered, "You will not live forever! I'll drain this valley of trees and you'll have nothing to feed on!" And with that, Kratos ran to the northern part of the valley, grabbed the grass by the roots and began rolling the plants like a bedroll into a long coil. As soon as he reached the southern part of the valley, he picked up the roll of trees and plants and threw them to the bottom of the ocean where the fire couldn't get them. Now all that was left were the rocks, sand, and pebbles left behind.

The fire reached for anything that would burn but came up empty-handed and quickly burned itself out.

Kratos stood in the middle of the still burning sand and looked around. The huge hole was still there with all the villagers had been cowering within it, but were now emerging to see the damage. Their homes were still standing but they had no shade, no food in the fields, and no lake. Kratos retrieved more water from the ocean to fill the lake and a couple palm trees that wouldn't catch fire unless the flames fell from heaven. Then Kratos fished the ocean to fill the lake for food until the crops would grow back.

The old man sauntered up to Kratos and declared, "You really can do anything! You destroyed an entire forest and created a desert!" A fact that Kratos was reminded of every time he traveled the sands of Triet. While he continued to help others, he learned not to turn his back on the elements either. The next time a fire requested life, he granted it, fearing the awesome power the fire would have otherwise.

* * *

About the Folktale: Before Efreet was born, the desert used to be a beautiful valley of trees, fields, and life. Until a certain Ancient Hero came along and screwed it all up. This is why one must show respect for all things, living, inanimate, and the gods as well. When you show respect for these things, you avoid much trouble that should come if you aren't more respectful. This story was passed down by the villagers of Triet, but oddly originated with a scop who answered a curious young boy's question of why Triet is the only place where grass won't grow. Everyone knew about Celsius freezing Flanoir. Now everyone knows how the Triet Desert came to be.

A/N: Sorry it took so long, I was really stumped about what to write for him and then I read a couple Ozark folk tales and got an idea. hehehe...

--Kat


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